


livin' in the state of dreaming

by goddcoward



Series: talk to me pretty (here kitty, kitty) [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, babey - Freeform, fjshdfjadshfjka, going 2 edit some more later probably........now its Nap Time, sleepy bitch on main disorder, theres a babeey. Birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddcoward/pseuds/goddcoward
Summary: It’s a Sunday morning and the sun isn’t yet up. Neither of them have any immediate concerns to attend to today; Madara promised Kagami that they’d help the boy practice his Katon later in the afternoon, which promises to be interesting; Hashirama should spend the day in the office, and for once they don’t have to fear any interruptions.There may or may not be some interruptions.[when are you moving to lightning country and leaving all of these dipshit humans far, far behind us. when, kitten.]





	livin' in the state of dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> so i may or may not have been thinking a lil about how i want to end blood // water which. the next chapter is probably going 2 be the last but DO NOT FEAR!! im always ready to inflict the world with more jinchuuriki tobirama so theres probably going to be another shorter lil series about madatobi courting ft. matatabi and mito will become princess + kakuzu will join their weirdass poly marriage thingie + i think it might end w a wedding so thats yeet
> 
> this takes place 8 years after b//w and hopefully its got some good goopy gay shit
> 
> also i wanted to publish more things....ive got like seven hundred million multichapter fic ideas floating around ~my twisted mind~ but theyre all madatobi week related and its fucking february so im gonna hold on 2 that a little. wait HOLD ON.......i have another idea but its a one-shot and its gonna be cute. so fucking cute. day 2 WATCH OUT bitch
> 
> good news is this is only like 3k which is a nice break from everything im planning........F
> 
> theres more mention of sex than is probably appropriate for anything thats not explicit but im just tagging it as that ti be safe

UCHIHA CLAN HEAD HOUSEHOLD, KONOHAGAKURE, HI NO KUNI, FOUNDERS’ ERA

ALMOST A DECADE INTO THE FUTURE

 

 

It’s only when years have passed that Tobirama gradually becomes able to wake up slowly, no springing to alertness or grabbing blindly for concealed weapons the way he’d been taught to as a very young child.

He has the luxury, now, of lazy mornings, curled into the embrace of his husband and unbothered by anything more than Matatabi’s ever-present grumbling and the way Madara’s uncontrollable mane of hair tickles at his bare skin. He’d never been slow to wake before – he’s never had that freedom – but Tobirama finds that it’s something he _loves._ Getting to lay quietly in the futon, always warm thanks to his soulmate being a fucking human _furnace,_ safely wrapped up in the arms of his lover is a sensation he wants to know every single day until he _dies._

Matatabi can growl and hiss about _complacency_ and _softness_ and _disgusting sappy bullshit_ if she wants to, and she _does,_ but Tobirama knows that she too enjoys it, the ability to sleep when he does and not have to maintain the permanent vigilance they’d kept up for so long, even after the founding of Konohagakure. 

It’s not like she doesn’t go to lengths to stay quiet and still when he’s with Madara like this, the both of them sleepy and comfortable in the earliest unholy hours of the morning; she can make all the noise in the world, and sometimes she does, but she _cares,_ and no amount of half-assed intimidation tactics can really hide that.

It’s almost uncomfortably hot, laying so close to Madara and under the covers, but Tobirama can’t be bothered to move, and the heat is soothing. The tension melts out of his muscles and the peaceful satisfaction that hums through his Bond is more than enough incentive to stay.

It’s a Sunday morning and the sun isn’t yet up. Neither of them have any immediate concerns to attend to today; Madara promised Kagami that they’d help the boy practice his Katon later in the afternoon, which promises to be _interesting_ ; Hashirama should spend the day in the office, and for once they don’t have to fear any interruptions. It’s the kind of rare, perfect moment that makes Tobirama wonder if he really is getting spineless after all, which of course means that Madara senses it somehow and rolls off of him with a bear-like growl.

“St-aaa _hhhhwh_ pp _thinkin’_ , To-biiii-raa, ‘s too _eaarrlyy._ Back to sleep, hnn.” The way his voice splits in a yawn on every other word doesn’t do a great deal to make him sound _particularly_ authoritative, but it does to a great deal to make Tobirama’s chest dissolve into some kind of overly-besotted goo with the rough consistency of molasses, and – Madara’s _right._ It’s too early, they can _sleep in,_ there’s nothing in the _world_ that could bother them and damn everything if he doesn’t seize the rare chance to enjoy it—

Tobirama is just drifting off again, lulled into unconsciousness by the cool brush of pre-dawn summer air on his cheeks and the blazing steadiness of Madara wrapped around him from behind, so of _course_ that’s when Hashirama explodes into the house, screaming like he’s been lit on fire and radiating such intense concern that it gives Tobirama a headache just _sensing_ him.

Apparently, his beloved husband is no more pleased with the intrusion than he is, because there’s a deep, menacing grumbling from somewhere behind his back before – aw, shit, that was _comfortable_ – his personal heater wrenches himself up and away with an audible snarl and a burst of mangled cussing.

“TOOOOOOOBIIIIII _RAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAA –_ oh, hey, Madara! Good morning, sunshine, please _help_ — _ACHK,_ why would you _do that,_ so _MEAN—_ ”

“H’shi’r’ma. Shadd _up_ or I’ll kill you, f’ fuck’s sake, go _away._ ” 

What an articulate, eloquent man is Tobirama’s soulmate. There’s absolutely no reason overhearing him get into a very tired argument with a maniacally overdramatic anija should make his sleep-hazed brain dissolve into a mushy puddle of unreasonably affectionate slime, but it _does._ That’s his _husband,_ desperately trying to manhandle their esteemed Hokage out of the house at ass o’ clock in the morning so that he doesn’t have to get up, and it’s such a noble act, so self-sacrificing and heroic, that Tobirama shuffles up in bed and begins to drowsily grope around for the lube they’d left someplace after finishing with it last night. If Madara is going to be such a good Samaritan, he reasons, he deserves a _reward,_ and it’s a very rare hour when Tobirama is _opposed_ to a good dicking.

[ **this is literally the worst thing ive ever heard. i cant believe im saying this but you were _so much better_ before human-madara. _so much better._ now youre just horny and tired. unbelievable. i train you to be the two-tails, im generous enough to share my power with you, and as thanks im exposed time after time to your dirt fucking fantasies. we get it senju youre a bottom now _shut up._** ]

[Not all of us are pussies,] Tobirama informs Matatabi primly, annoyed to no fucking end by whatever force compels her to provide _commentary_ on the moments of intimacy he shares with his _husband,_ to whom he is _married._ [I’m practicing safe sex, you evil old wench, be thankful for that-]

Tobirama is preparing, right in the middle of fingering himself open and simultaneously trying to fend off the non-stop insults coming from the demon cat that lives in his soul, and it’s at that exact moment that _Hashirama_ comes in to the bedroom, followed by Madara, who is a much more welcome sight but who should be _ashamed_ for letting his _brother_ into their _room_ —

Predictably, he then does nothing, _staring_ hungrily like a dumbass as Hashirama screeches in rage and not even bothering to defend himself from the wild vengeful flailing of the village idiot.  
  
Tobirama’s morning is _thoroughly_ ruined, and he’s not even going to get sex out of it.

“I – Tobirama – _what are you doing!_ Get your hands away from there, otouto, there is an _emergency!_ ”

“-No, love, please, _do_ go on, I’ll dispose of the moron—” 

[ **when are you moving to lightning country and leaving all of these dipshit humans far, far behind us. _when,_ kitten.**]

“ _Madara stop looking at him like that!_ No! It’s _illegal,_ I’m Hokage and I say that Tobirama _cannot fuck—!_ ”

“Oh, my god, what the hell do you _want,_ Anija, I’m a little _busy_ and you’re ruining my morning,” Tobirama snarls at him, borrowing Matatabi’s most menacing tone and feeling rather vindicated when it causes the unwelcome intruder in his doorway to wilt.

“I- Mito’s having the baby, Tobi, and Kyashi won’t listen to me quietly and politely asking for help because she _hates_ me and Kakuzu might be _dead_ or maybe just still asleep, _please,_ you have to _help_ —”

Oh, for fuck’s _sake,_ why couldn’t he have just _said that?_

Tobirama hauls himself out of the futon on wobbly legs and washes up all incriminating, unsanitary evidence as quickly as he can – not very quickly, since he’s still half-asleep and also mildly spiteful about being woken up so rudely. Now that he’s sensing for it, he can tell Mito’s _already delivered_ by now and seems to be doing just fine, if the serenity of her chakra signature is at all indicative of her state of being.

That being said, he feels absolutely no guilt at dragging out the steps he has to take to be presentable; not enough to make Hashirama think he’s purposefully being spiteful, but definitely _more_ than enough to make him panic and scream and flap about like he’s not a grown-ass man who’s rapidly approaching middle age and, as of today, a _father._

Tobirama ties closed the yukata Madara had so generously helped him into and spares a moment to feel bad for that poor infant, stuck with _Hashirama_ as a parent although it’ll have three other theoretically sensible adults to raise it. 

Juuno greets them at the front door, her mass of black hair circling her head in a sleep-tousled halo and a twelve-year-old Kagami bouncing enthusiastically at her side.

Madara, who is still pretty tired and has not apparently regained full control of his mental faculties, tries to ask her what she’s doing here, but in classic elder sister fashion, she slaps him brutally up the side of his head and tangles one hand into his knotted, wild bedhead.

“I heard,” she says grimly, keeping her other hand firmly on Kagami’s shoulder and doing an admirable job of anchoring her son to the ground. “ _Everyone_ heard. Go on and go, since that’s probably the only thing that will get the _noise_ to stop. We’ll take care of the house while you’re gone, although I don’t promise it’ll still be standing when you’re back.”

“Good morning, Juuno, Kagami-kun,” Tobirama greets them pleasantly, opening the door properly to grant them entrance and ignoring Madara’s squawk of “What do you _mean_ the house might not still be standing, that’s the entire _point_ of house-sitting—”

“Tobirama. Go on and leave before he wakes the whole damn compound with his hysterics.” 

He nods at her and ruffles Kagami’s curls before locating Anija – somehow he’d made his way to the kitchen and gotten himself covered nearly head to toe in spices in his panic, Sage only knows how on earth _that_ happened – and dragging both him and his husband out of the house and into the hazy summer morning. 

When they get to Hashirama’s place, they’re greeted by the sight of a shirtless Kakuzu, his plethora of black braids tied in a knot on top of his head and the threads of his Earth Grudge Fear floating around the kitchen. He appears to be dumping an entire container full of raw coffee grounds into the painted porcelain maw of his Water Mask, and when he notices their arrival, he shoves a steaming cup of gyokuro into Hashirama’s spice-dusted hands with a wordless grunt.

“Thank you, beloved soulmate!” Hashirama tries to chirp in response, but he’s efficiently glared away and back towards the master bedroom, where Tobirama can sense Kyashi – apparently _still sleeping,_ because _of course_ – alongside Mito, who is exhausted but elated and cradling the small, delicate chakra signature of a newborn.

Sure enough, when they actually reach the room – Tobirama having commandeered the gyokuro, since Hashirama is a walking disaster and Mito would likely not appreciate red and yellow curry powders infecting her tea, Madara shoved awkwardly beside him in the hallway, and Hashirama himself racing down towards his wife and brand-new child like a goddamn six-year-old – Mito is there, all but literally glowing as she holds her minutes-old daughter in her arms.

Tobirama is ashamed to admit that the first thing he thinks upon looking at his niece is _Oh thank god Kyashi isn’t actually sleeping._ She’s not, lo and behold; she _is_ viciously shooing Hashirama away from their wife and child, apparently being one of too-few people in the village to have any kind of common sense and not willing to have her idiot husband cover their daughter in turmeric and ground chili literally right out of the womb.

The baby is possibly one of the most beautiful little creatures Tobirama has ever _seen,_ and he’d never say it, but she’s even cuter than Peanut was as a cub. She’s still sticky and pinkish with amniotic fluid and is horribly wrinkled and ugly like all newborns, but the bright golden-red of her tufts of hair and the six whisker marks drawing across her cheeks make her quite possibly the most precious thing he’s ever been graced to look at.

“Huh,” says Madara, ever tactful in the face of the miracle of life, “it’s ugly. Hashirama, you made your baby _ugly._ ”

“Kill yourself,” hums Kyashi idly, not looking away from the baby and where she’s tucked safely against Mito’s sweat-soaked chest. “Mito bore this child, so all of Hashirama’s grossness must have been canceled out by literally everything about her. Shut your damn blasphemous _mouth,_ Uchiha, get your weak eyes off my child if you don’t have anything good to say.”

“Don’t curse in front of the infant, dumbass,” Mito croaks, looking moments away from falling asleep herself but so breathtakingly _proud_ when she peers down at the little bundle of chakra she’s just birthed.

Hashirama is too busy crying – silently, thankfully, which says more about his current emotional state than any words he could possibly hope to squeeze out right now – to answer anything, but his expression makes him seem like he’s just met the Sage himself, and Tobirama can’t help but think he must look very similar when the baby girl grabs at one of Kyashi’s long fingers with a tiny, meaty fist.

Kakuzu’s Lightning Mask, which has been remodeled into a more family-friendly, cartoony oni visage rather than the hideous fucking spider face it had been before, slinks onto the ceiling and perches there, resting its blank yellow-and-white eyes on the child and rattling softly.

“What – what do you think you’re going to name her,” Tobirama manages to say, all but transfixed by the baby and her impossibly chubby little cheeks. He’s so, _so_ tempted to reach out and stroke the whisker marks, but he remembers what he’d been doing not so long ago and jerks his hand back like he’s been burned before he can defile his tiny niece like that.

Mito looks at him strangely and Kyashi squints at him suspiciously, but they dismiss his odd behavior and tell him that they’re not sure, actually, do you have any ideas?

Hashirama makes a broken gasping noise from the corner he’s collapsed in and then starts coughing up a storm, and Kyashi has to send a small Fuuton jutsu flying right over the head of her newborn child to keep the billowing cloud of spices he’s coated in from clogging up the baby’s tiny nose. 

It’s a perfect little nose, a deep tan color that resembles all of her parents: it’s a perfect mix between Hashirama’s healthy dark brown and Mito’s red-tinted paleness, but visually closer in tone to Kyashi and Kakuzu than either of them. It’s such a finely crafted tiny face, even crumpled as it is in sleep and still so new and vulnerable. 

Tobirama might be crying, but he takes solace in knowing that he wouldn’t be the only one.

[ **oh.** ] Matatabi’s voice echoes in the back of his head and he nearly jumps, having been so absorbed in the chaos that he’d forgotten her presence somehow. [ **this kitten is…flawless. almost perfectly formed except for the…human bits. those are kuramas whiskers, you know? i thought it possible that the child might have gained something from sharing mitos body with a bijuu, but this is just _revoltingly_ precious. tobirama, i command you to make the kitten less cute. do it now. im sick of looking at its small well-formed face.**]

“Matatabi says that I have to make her less precious somehow,” he whispers conspiratorially to Mito, who snorts softly in amusement and rolls her eyes in a manner that makes him think that Kurama, too, has a great deal of opinions on the baby. He ignores the Nibi’s hiss of [ **traitor! snitch! bastard!** ] in favor of clutching at Madara’s hand, clinging to it tightly as his soulmate activates the Sharingan so he can burn the visage into his memory.

That’s when Kyashi kicks them out, hissing something about “Don’t put our fucking _baby_ into a genjutsu, Uchiha demon, _where_ are your manners?” and Mito scolds them for chakra use. The slight fluctuation of energy wakes the baby, and her piercing caterwauls are enough to fend off everyone but Hashirama and Kakuzu, who grunts a muffled goodbye at Tobirama and Madara as they leave and then makes his well-caffeinated way back to the bedroom.

Their walk back to their house is a slow and peaceful one. The sun is rising, now, but the broad emerald leaves of the trees filter its rays and keep them from shining painfully into their eyes. The streets are dappled green and gold, and the hushed bustle of the waking village is a comforting background noise without being distracting. 

Tobirama barely makes it to their room after thanking and dismissing Juuno and Kagami before his face splits itself in a massive yawn. Beneath the Tartarus Seal, he can sense Matatabi doing the same thing; their exhaustion feeds off of each other, and he’s just able to reach the futon before he collapses face-down onto the mattress and begins to sleep almost immediately.

Distantly, he registers the weight and warmth of Madara laying down next to him, but it’s been years since his husband appeared to his senses as any kind of danger or abnormality, and they fall back to unconsciousness together and spend the rest of that morning catching up on what rest they’d missed earlier. The sun shines that day on the two of them curled up into each other, and for the first time in what feels like forever, everything is really, truly _peaceful_ – Konohagakure has achieved the impossibility it was built on, and seasoned shinobi can rest late into the day without a single concern.

**Author's Note:**

> the baby is tsunade.......i said id make her a redhead w whiskers and So It Shall Be.
> 
> i dont watch b*ruto but its impossible for naruto's kids to have the whiskers and my theory is he's trying to revive the uzumaki clan by like making up traditional clan markings. what im saying is naruto absolutely gave his fucking children face tattoos so theyd be cool and edgy. hinata is an enabler and she was the one to suggest it
> 
> don't love the ending but i feel like stretching it out wouldn't be goode at All and im feeling snoozy bitch hours too! let us Rest.


End file.
